


Thin Mints

by BleuWaters



Category: NCIS
Genre: Arguing, Domestic Fluff, F/M, it's fine in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuWaters/pseuds/BleuWaters
Summary: Gibbs x reader.Gibbs has another of his basement chats with Jen, and fails to mention it to his young wife. So frustrating!!
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Thin Mints

Two fists hiding manicured nails pound on the kitchen table. You let out a frustrated yell between your teeth. Paperwork surrounds you, a blanket of white and print grating on your final nerve.

"Why me?" you ask yourself incredulously, throwing your hands up, "Why me? I stinkin' hate this stuff…"

You stare at the page in front of you, the lines of legal phrases turning into words, then turning into a blur. You slam your hand down on it, then the rest of the spread and pile them up. It's getting late, your head hurts, and exhaustion won't help you fill out the endless forms.

When you hear the key turn in the back door's lock, you breathe a relieved sigh.

"Oh, honey, I'm so glad you're home," you call to him, walking toward the back door, your robe wrapped snugly around your frame, "I've hit my daily limit for those adoption for-" You stop abruptly when your husband drags a thumb across his throat. You raise your brows, then realize why he cut you off when a woman steps in behind him. "Oh. Hello."

"Hi." Her answer is short, almost harsh, and again, your brows shoot heavenward. You may be used to short answers in your own home, but not from a stranger.

"This is the NCIS Director, Jen," says Jethro, continuing toward the basement. His urgency to reach it means he doesn't see your features go rock-hard.

He knows you know who she is. He's been transparent with you about his previous marriages. But never, not once, in your own marriage, not in your entire relationship with him, did you anticipate him bringing one of those ex-flings into your home, right in front of you, like it means nothing.

You sit and watch tv in the living room, angrily flicking through the channels, becoming more and more agitated when commercials suffocate the two shows you actually like at the exact same time.

You wait for ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. Fifty. Ninety.

Each minute beyond that brings on a manifestation of your stress. First, you start pacing. The floor creaks beneath you, and you notice it with a feeling of smugness. If you can hear it, so can they. Then the cuticle of your poor thumb meets your teeth. When you realize it, you drop your hand and clench your jaw.

You've already eaten this evening, but it was two hours ago, and popcorn and cookies sound lovely. You fetch that coveted final box of Thin Mints from the freezer as the popcorn pops busily in the microwave.

It's really not like you to interrupt your husband when he's working, but you can't resist.

"Honey, have you eaten!?" you holler down the stairs.

"Yeah, at work!" he shouts back.

"Well, I'm having the rest of the Thin Mints, if you wanted any!" You know he does; the two of you had promised not to open it without the other. Is it a dirty trick? Maybe. But bringing his ex into your home is worse.

"No, really, Jethro," says Jen, her voice growing louder as she ascends the basement stairs, "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Heading out?" you ask mildly, stuffing a large handful of popcorn into your mouth. You were home all day. You didn't shower, or do your makeup, or even brush your hair. You're wearing fuzzy pajama pants and an NCIS t-shirt beneath your robe, and mismatched socks. You look awful, and you know it, and Jen looks great, and she knows it.

You just kind of want to rub in the fact that Jethro is yours now, and you don't have to work, at all, to keep him. It's cold-hearted, of course, but she looks (and sounds) like the kind of woman that would still claim him, if she had motivation to. While you trust Jethro completely, you don't want him to be put in that situation.

"Yes," she answers, scanning your outfit, "My apologies for intruding on your evening."

"And my house," you add, scratching your head, "And my husband."

The woman gets an offended look to her and, once again, you just lift your brows in question. Jethro comes up the stairs (you guess that he had to put some tools away and that's why he trailed her by about twenty seconds), says good night to Jen, and closes the door behind her.

You march back into the kitchen and put the popcorn bag down on the counter. Then you turn and cross your arms.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs, my darling, my soulmate," you begin, looking at a speck on the floor in an attempt to control your aggravation, "My dearest, my greater half, my love."

"What!?" he demands, a deep frown on his handsome face. Now you look up.

You are not in the mood to be snapped at.

"How long have you known me?" you ask seriously.

He huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Jethro…"

"Two years!"

"And in that time, when have I ever started something?"

"You start stuff all the time!"

"Like what!?" you cry, "I may ask you not to yell at me when you're stressed, but I have never once made petty arguments for the sake of fighting! I don't like fighting! Not with you, not with anyone!"

"Okay, well, that's true!" He maintains his sharp tongue.

"Yes, it's true," you say, "I don't start stuff. But why did you bring her here? Why, into my house, our house, no warning, no nothing?"

"I'm working on a big case right now. She's the Director; she wanted to talk to me about it."

"For nearly two hours!?"

"It's very...complicated!"

"Two! Hours!? After a long shift, anyway? I couldn't just go to bed without you, could I? Would I? I'm dead on my feet; I'm so tired! But why her!?"

"I told you, she's the Director!!"

"I understand that!!" you shout for the first time ever.

"Are you worried about me and her getting back together or something?" Jethro sighs as you turn and walk away. "It's not gonna happen!"

"I love you, honey," you say softly, "I am worried that some old flame will reignite. Or that ours will be snuffed out. But I'm tired; I need to sleep."

Jethro runs his hand over his face, then grabs the box of Thin Mints and soon follows you up to the bedroom, locking doors and windows and turning off everything electric. You toss your robe onto the chair near your side of the bed and slide under the covers. After taking in a deep breath of the familiar smell of your bed, you immediately turn your lamp off. Jethro gets changed out of his clothes into his underthings, and clambers into bed beside you. He sits up for a few minutes, munching on the cookies and probably reading or something, then he turns his light off and rolls to face you. He puts a hand on your arm and, when you don't react, rubs it softly. His arm slides around you and you feel a gentle tug as he moves closer.

"You don't have to worry about Jen," he whispers against your hair, and he uses his chin to brush it out of the way so he can kiss your neck, "That ship has sailed. It's long gone."

"I should hope so," you reply, twisting your fingers with his, "I need you to sign some of the paperwork tomorrow. Lawyer said the adoption will only take a month once the papers are turned in."

"Okay," he says, and he lets out a huge sigh, hot against the back of your neck.

"I trust you, honey," you murmur, "But I don't trust her."

"You don't have to," he whispers, "Just...trust me."

"I do," you reiterate, hardness and irritation creeping into your voice, "But...if it can be helped, please don't bring her back here."

"I'll do my best."

"And don't let her isolate you."

" _Isolate_ me?"

"Correct," you mutter, shrugging him off of you and rolling onto your stomach. You give your pillow a couple of punches to soften it, then plop your head down. You feel your husband turn onto his back and he lets out a heavy sigh.

"It's not gonna happen," he says, his voice no longer quiet.

"Okay."

"I'm serious!"

"Yeah," you say, sighing softly as your body winds down for sleep, "I love you."

"I love you, too!"

You smile to yourself. You do find peace in the situation, and the anger still in Jethro's voice is typical of him. It doesn't bother you anymore.

"Hey, honey?"

"What?" The 't' is incredibly sharp.

"You saved me some Thin Mints, right?"

There's a good long pause before he chuckles, and you smile as he sidles up to you once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments. I like comments 😊


End file.
